Every Other Day
by Rosie Cotton
Summary: Short angst-ish fic about one of the soldiers Neo and Trinity gunned down in the lobby shoot-em-up scene near the end of the first movie. Human life is a more precious thing than moviemakers give it credit for.


I wake up this morning, just like every other morning. I give my wife, Michelle, a kiss on the cheek and tell her sleeping form how much I love her. She smiles in her sleep and rolls over in bed. Her golden hair pools across the pillow like a golden waterfall.  
  
I get out of bed, just like I do every other morning. I take a shower and get dressed, just like I always do, and comb my hair. I brush my teeth and wash my face and eat breakfast. Just like I always do.  
  
I go back into the bedroom and pick my gorgeous little two-month-old girl, Katie, out of her crib. I give her a big sloppy smooch and tickle her until she smiles at me, and then set her back down with a bottle. I wake my beautiful, beautiful wife up and give her a kiss, and tell her I'm off to work. Just like every other morning.  
  
I go into the kids' room and wake up my three-year-old, Danny, and my older girl, Jessica. I tell them to be good and promise them a treat when I get home. I give them a hug.  
  
Then I go out the door and get into my car, my lovely Kia, and drive off to work. I go into my normal station, and try a little target practise, and wait. Just wait. And I wonder, out of all the jobs in the world, why this one? Why did I have to pick a job that endangers my life every day, and yet where I'm bored out of my wits?  
  
And then I say, don't be silly, nothing ever happens, you're not endangering your life.  
  
Then all of a sudden Johns calls from Floor Five and calls for backup right away. I feel adrenaline rush through me as I strap on my helment and load my gun. And then we're all suited up and we're running out, and I don't have any more time to think.  
  
We run in, and Byers shouts "Freeze!" like usual. The two people in front of us -- a tall skinny guy and a girl who definitely had good-looking parents, both in this black leather-type stuff -- should listen. They should drop their weapons (something which might take quite some time) and put up their hands, and surrender. There's about twenty-five or thirty of us, and two of them. They should just give in.  
  
But they don't.  
  
Instead, they give each other this look, and then, they leap out of the way, guns blazing. And those guns are pointed straight at us.  
  
I see Michaels fall. Michelle taught his son. Michelle's a schoolteacher, you know. Our children play together. He's one of my best friends. And he's dead, just like that.  
  
I see Johnson fall. He's saved my life at least twice. We don't always get on too well, but when you get down to it, we're the same type of man, with the same doubts and fears and insecurities. But not any more.  
  
I see De Carlo fall. He worked with my brother a long time ago, and he's kept secrets that could ruin my family. But I guess he doesn't need to worry about keeping them any more.  
  
And then I hear one gunshot crack. They're happening all over the place, but somehow I know this one's different. This one's aimed straight at me. I feel something hit me in the gut, and I feel warm red blood come rushing out of me. I don't feel any pain, but I know that it's fatal.  
  
As I fall to the ground, watching my own life seep away before my eyes, I know I'll never see Michelle again. I know I'll never see my baby Katie again, or Chrissy or Danny. I know they'll cry. I see my children being raised without a father, and I see their mother working her tail off to keep them clothed and fed, and still falling short.  
  
As I take what I know might be my last breath, I idly watch the man finish off the last of my friends with some fancy karate. Wait...how the hell did he do that? Oh well, it doesn't matter any more.  
  
And then I see them, to my amazement, just walk back and pick up the bag they were carrying, and I see them heading for the elevator like nothing happened. Like this is normal life. Like killing me doesn't even matter, and they'll have forgotten me and gotten on with their lives in five seconds.  
  
Just like every other day. 


End file.
